At the Last
by GettingBy
Summary: A brief look into the December 24th, 1990: the night Mimi was found in the park. Oneshot.


"Maureen, I cannot believe you. I just—I cannot put up with your constant flirting, and possibly cheating. It's too much. It is TOO MUCH."

"Pookie, I don't know why you make such a big deal. You know that I only love you, and you're everything." At this point, Maureen draped her arms around Joanne's neck, trying to get her to turn around. The other woman did, but it was sharply, spinning on her heel quickly to stare at Maureen accusingly. "Excuse me?!" she barked, staring at her lover (Maureen was hoping that she still garnered that title right now, anyway), "I'm _everything?_ You were all _over _that girl. She _kissed _you, Maureen. I'm not _stupid,_ I _saw _it."

"Pookie…but…I was drunk…I didn't know she was going to go and kiss me…there's no one…" Joanne wasn't listening. She was instead stomping out the door of their shared apartment, not even bothering to take her purse with her. Maureen caught the door before it slammed in her face and followed her out, slipping her keys into her pocket and also not bothering with anything else. "Please, Joanne!" she called as she pattered down the stairs in boots with ridiculously high heels. They were making running after Joanne somewhat more difficult than it should have been.

Joanne didn't look back as she spoke. "Why are you even still with me?" she asked bitterly. The lines in Maureen's forehead deepened in despair as she caught up with her. "I'm with you because I _love _you, that's why!" she exclaimed. Her partner huffed, and there was a very long silence before she stopped and turned to look at Maureen, eyes sad and dark.

"Look, Maureen," she began, and then stopped again, running her hand through her hair and sighing. "Maureen, I love you. I really do. I _love _you. But I just…can't take this. We have this same damn fight every week, practically! It's like a big rehearsed script, and I'm so tired of it." Her voice was tired, soft, unlike the shouts from before. "I don't want to be with someone that has to keep sucking up to me to apologize, because I don't want to have to keep chastising my lover."

Maureen's big eyes filled with dismay. The pair fought constantly, but she had never really considered a break-up that lasted. Her relationship with Mark had always been on her terms, and that's how she'd always expected it to be. This was something entirely new to her, and she was torn between giving a snippy remark and walking away, or groveling more. She chose the latter approach, unwilling to let Joanne just leave, even though the lawyer had already started to turn her back. "Please, Joanne. Just…wait a minute."

It was the "Joanne" that actually got her to turn around. Maureen rarely called her that—it was always Pookie, or some other pet name.

With a sigh, she faced Maureen again, gesturing for her to speak. Maureen rarely had trouble deciding on something to say, but this was serious, for once. Finally she attempted, "Please…I really don't want to lose you. Let's talk about this. We can talk about this." Joanne hesitated before nodding, sliding her hands into her pockets as a sign that she wasn't comfortable touching Maureen right now.

"Alright, go ahead. Talk," she instructed, watching as Maureen bit her lip.

The silence was just starting to become unbearable when a thin, dry voice interrupted it. "You can't break up on Christmas," was weakly imparted to them.

Both women froze for a moment, eyes searching the dark for the source of the voice. Maureen was the first to spot it, a pitiful life form curled up beside a park bench. "Mimi!" she cried, partly in joy and partly in horror. Their friend looked absolutely terrible, it was clear even in the darkness that shrouded them. Her clothes weren't nearly enough to protect her from the cold, and she looked smaller and paler than they'd ever seen.

Both of them immediately broke into a short, swift run, descending upon Mimi, who tried to smile as she said, "No one…else in the world…would be fighting…on Christmas…except the two of you." Her speech was breathy, with the words sounding almost more like coughs or gasps.

"Shhh," Joanne said soothingly, hooking her hands under the thin arms and pulling Mimi to a standing position as Maureen petted her dark hair worriedly. "We have to get her to the Clinic, or a hospital, or Paul's house, or _somewhere_," she pleaded, but Mimi shook her head violently, trying with no chance of success to break away from Joanne at Maureen's words. "No," she insisted, "The loft. I need….Roger."

Over her head, as she broke into a fit of coughing, Maureen and Joanne had a swift eye-contact conversation, in which they both agreed to take her to her Roger. Both of them supported her, more dragging her than anything, as they hurried towards the corner of 11th and B.

By the time they arrived, it was just past ten, and all the lights in the building were out. Maureen wasn't sure if the power was out, or just no one was there, but she tossed her head back and screamed with all her might, "MARK! ROGER! _ANYONE_!!! Hellllllllp!!!!" A moment of silence passed, and then she could hear glass scraping as someone above them opened a window. She peered up, making out Mark's figure, with shadows of what had to be Collins and Roger behind him. Sounding worried, he called, "Maureen?"

Mimi had begun to cough again, and despair filled Maureen's voice as she said, "It's Mimi…I can't get her up the stairs!"

Roger could be heard, even as Mark turned to run for the door of loft. "Nooooo!" The raw horror and pain in his voice made her wince, and she glanced at Joanne, who looked away.

It seemed like an eternity, even though it was really only a matter of thirty or so seconds before Mark burst out of the building with Collins and Roger behind him. Joanne let the boys take over with Mimi's prone form, following swiftly and quietly behind them. Feeling compelled to say something in the form of explanation, Maureen told them, "She was huddled in the park…in the dark. And she was freezing…and begged to come here."

No one responded. They were at the door to the loft by now, pushing their way in as Joanne rushed to clear things from the table, and they laid out a blanket. "Over here," Roger instructed, even as she was placed on the table, "Oh God." Mark and Collins retreated, Collins toward the phone and Mark over to Maureen and Joanne, who stood nearby, but far enough to allow Roger his space.

Mimi's eyes fluttered open, and she wildly asked, "Got a light? I know you…you're shivering." She was looking right through Roger, who frantically looked to Maureen and Joanne as if to ask what had happened to her. "She's been living on the street," Maureen said, not being able to tell him anything really useful.

Mark cut in. "We need some heat!" he said to Joanne even as Mimi announced, "I'm shivering!" He bit his lip and continued, "We can buy some wood…and something to eat…" but both the women standing with him knew that he didn't really believe it. He was trying to make the best of a hopeless situation. From over by the phone, Collins said in a low voice, "I'm afraid she needs more than heat."

Despite his attempt at being quiet, Mimi responded, "I heard that." _At least,_ Maureen thought, _she's here enough to understand us now._ Aloud she reassured, "Collins will call for a doctor, honey," shooting him a look. It wasn't too late, no matter what he thought. It couldn't be. Not for the girl who was always living to seize the moment. Apparently, though, she thought it was. "Don't waste your money on Mimi…me…me…"

Behind her, Maureen could hear Collins dialing, and swearing under his breath at the receiver. "Hello? 911?" he asked finally, and then, in a disbelieving tone, growled, "I'm on HOLD!" Since when did 911 put anyone on hold? That was just…there was someone _dying_, goddammit.

"Cold…cold…would you light my candle?" Mimi had lapsed back into her semi-delirium, looking towards Roger, but almost through him again. Seeing the Roger from a Christmas ago, when her words left him shaking with want instead of with unshed sobs. He managed, "Yes, well…oh God." He turned to look at Mark, waving his hands urgently. "Find a candle!" he said, almost angrily, turning back to Mimi.

Mark met eyes with Maureen and Joanne and shook his head slowly. His eyes were pitying, hurting for Roger's inability to accept the inevitable. Collins had put the phone down by now, leaving it off the hook just in case, and walked over to join them, and he, too, looked devastated on the behalf of his friend. After all, he'd already been through this, only a few short months earlier. He understood, and the pain in his gaze was the worst thing of all.

Once more, Mimi seemed to snap back to the present. Looking directly at Roger, she said, "I should tell you…I should tell you…" but couldn't finish. He softly petted her hair, responding, "I should tell you…I should tell you…" but was cut off by Mimi gathering her strength to finish what she had been trying to say. "I should tell you…Benny wasn't any—" He didn't let her finish, saying, "Shhh. I know. I should tell you why I left. It wasn't 'cause I didn't—" She silenced him again. "I know." Both of them were trying to speak over one another, to get out what might be their last words to each other, and in the process, not letting one another finish. "I should tell you…" "I should tell you…" Finally, Mimi held up her hand, and Roger quieted.

"I should tell you, I love—you." As if the words had been too much effort for her, Mimi collapsed against Roger, who stared at her in disbelief. Emotions flashed across his face, going from shock to anger to pain. "Who do you think you are, leaving me alone with my guitar?" he asked the unconscious girl lying against him, and for a moment, Maureen and Mark exchanged a worried look. They had been there when he'd found April, yanking her body from the tub and shouting at her that she was a cheating whore, that she'd left him and this was her fault, and she'd damn well better face up to this, and not leave him alone to clean up her mess.

Now, though, Roger was calm. "Hold on, there's something you should hear," he mumbled, reaching for his guitar, obviously seeing only her, "It isn't much…but it took all year."

None of them had ever heard Roger sing quite like this before. He put himself into everything he sang, but this…this was different. His whole soul was in it, with no reservations.

Perhaps that's what made it believable when he ended, calling to her with everything that he was, and everyone held their breath, waiting, and despite all the doubt and impossibility, saw Mimi sit up and start coughing. No one could move, or say anything, except that Joanne slipped her hand into Maureen's, and they looked at one another, both of them with tears in their eyes.

"I jumped over the moon!" Mimi exclaimed, and Joanne's grip tightened in anxiety. Roger's face slackened, and he gasped, "What?"

"A leap of…moooooo!!" the girl continued, and Maureen broke into a smile. She was teasing. A light was shining in her eyes, and it wasn't one that lightens someone who isn't entirely there. "She's back!" Maureen couldn't help crying out, in joy. Mimi flashed her a weak smile, and then her face scrunched up, as if she was trying to remember something.

Finally she began, "I was in this tunnel…headed for this warm white light." Maureen's jaw dropped. So there, to all the people who told her that the supernatural couldn't happen. "Oh my god."

Roger glared at Maureen to shush her, and then looked back at Mimi, drinking in her words. Mimi, though, wasn't looking at him anymore. She had turned to Collins, and earnestly explained, "And I swear…Angel was there. And she looked good. She said, 'Turn around girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song.'" Collins, who had tears in his eyes, beamed despite that, as if Mimi had given him a lifeline.

Quietly, Roger snaked a hand out to her forehead. "She's drenched," he said joyously, and Maureen nodded. "Her fever's breaking," she told him.

Roger wasn't listening to any of them. It seemed as if he and Mimi were obviously back in their own world, gazing at each other as though there was nothing better in the world. Mark, holding the camera that seemed to appear out of nowhere, as always, was narrating quietly. "There is no future…there is no past…" Roger looked up suddenly, directly at the camera, and grinned broadly, looking younger and more healthy than Maureen had seen him in years as he finished for his best friend. "Thank God this moment's not the last."

The boys' words stuck in Maureen's mind as she and Joanne walked back towards their apartment an hour later, snow just beginning to fall around them. The silence between them had began as any would, but had become something tangible and awkward as they both remembered the fight of earlier, that already seemed like a week or a month before.

Finally, as they walked into their apartment and Joanne prepared to go into their bedroom, alone, Maureen, still standing in the doorway, called, "Wait…Joanne." For the second time that night, the sound of her name stopped the lawyer, and she turned around, asking, "Yeah?"

In seconds, Maureen was across the room, and they were wrapped up in one another's arms.

Joanne let Maureen push her into their room and onto the bed, where they lay curled up together. After nearly a half hour, during which Joanne could feel herself begin to drift off, Maureen's voice reached her ear, "I don't ever want a moment that's our last."


End file.
